This Revolution In Our Bones
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Anthony sees the parallels. This isn't the first war where someone with political power tried to eradicate an entire group of people. But he's here for this war, and he will make a stand.


_Women's History, task 11: Write about someone showing great courage in an oppressive society._

 _Word Count: 2211_

 _A special thank you to Em for helping me with this!_

* * *

I.

"Have you seen this?" his mother asks, setting the newspaper in front of him.

Anthony's hazel eyes immediately find the headline she means. His fork falls from his hand, landing unceremoniously on his plate. He doesn't bother to pick it up; his appetite has been stripped away. "Muggleborn Registration?" he asks.

"You know what it sounds like."

He nods, raking his fingers through his thick mess of dark curls as he ponders this. Some wizards may think they're superior to Muggles, but this isn't the first time someone has used a political position to try and get rid of a group of people deemed inferior. There had been quite a few Goldsteins in Nazi Germany who had been carted away, and now the Ministry wants to do the same thing to Muggleborns.

His stomach turns acidic, and he swallows desperately, but the nausea doesn't fade. Are people really blind enough to sit back and let this happen? Do they not see what's going on?

"Anthony?"

"I have to send a letter," he mutters, climbing to his feet and hurrying off.

"Your breakfast!"

He doesn't turn around, doesn't even pause for a second. His mind races, and he quickens his pace, taking the stairs two at a time until he reaches his room. Once inside, he closes the door and takes a seat at his desk.

Whenever he had first learned about that awful Muggle war, he had been quick to say if he had been there, he would have done something. "Put your Galleons where your mouth is, mate," he mutters to himself, gripping his quill.

It's a mad idea, but it isn't completely unheard of. There are countless stories of brave souls who had hidden his people during the war, or those who had smuggled them along to safety. With the world rapidly going to hell, he has the feeling that safety isn't an option, but he will do whatever he can to help those who need it.

Swallowing dryly, he dips the quill in ink, quickly scribbling out a letter to Justin.

…

"It won't work."

Anthony shakes his head. "It will."

His mother rests a hand on her chest. There are tears in her amber eyes, and she doesn't bother to wipe them. "Anthony, think about this. You read the paper. Hogwarts attendance is mandatory."

He knows, of course. Over the past twelve hours, he's already found every little issue with his plan, and he's pondered everything that can go wrong. If he doesn't show up to Hogwarts, they'll come looking for him. "You have to leave," he says. "You'll be safe in New York; they won't even think to look for you there."

"Anthony!"

He crosses the short distance between them, gripping his mother's hand gently and giving her a pleading look. "Mum, please. I have to do this, and I have to know that you'll be safe."

She caresses his cheek with her fingers, sniffling. "My sweet boy," she murmurs. "When did you become so grown up?"

That's the problem, really: Anthony _isn't_ grown. Even if seventeen makes him an adult, he's still just a kid. He should be worrying about finishing up his last year of school and maybe finally getting up the courage to ask Padma on a date. Instead, he's scared to death that people he know and love are going to be slaughtered. In the back of his mind, he thinks about how unfair it is, but he doesn't give in. He has to do this.

"Be good." She kisses his forehead, and he feels the thick, oily mess as her pink lipstick smears across his skin.

"I will, Mum. Promise."

"Be safe."

Anthony drops his gaze to his scuffed red and white trainers, unable to respond. He wants to assure her that he will be, that miracles are possible, and he'll make it through this unchanged. But he cannot bring himself to be cruel and comfort her with a lie. "I love you," he says instead.

…

"Are you sure about this?" Justin watches Anthony with pursed lips and narrowed, forest green eyes.

Anthony resists the urge to scowl. He keeps his attention honed on the task at hand. "Of course I'm not," he answers simply, pausing to clap whenever he successfully makes the inside of the shed expand. "There are at least a million things that can go wrong."

"Only a million?" his friend shoots back, his tone dry. "Good. For a minute there, I thought we were totally fucked."

Anthony rolls his eyes and mutters the incantation for a second Expansion Charm. Again, the inside of the raggedy white shed grows, though the outside remains exactly the same. Under ordinary circumstances, he might take a few moments to pause and appreciate his handiwork. Today, however, there are more pressing matters at hand. "Have you sent word?" he asks.

Justin nods. "I've written to every Muggleborn I can think of. Sent word to Ernie too… Just in case I…" He trails off and shakes his head, his untidy tawny hair whipping against his face. He clears his throat and offers Anthony a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I just…"

Anthony nods. "I get it. We don't know what's going to happen with this war," he says.

For a moment, Justin doesn't speak. His gaze shifts to the small flower garden in the distance, seemingly distracted by the vibrant explosions of color against the thick green leaves. After several seconds, he sighs, rubbing the back of his head and causing the unruly strands to stick up. "Thanks, mate. Not many people would have the nerve to do what you're doing."

Anthony nods. Again, he thinks about how unfair it is. Helping an oppressed group shouldn't be a merit of bravery, and he hates that the world has come to this.

"I just hope it's enough," Anthony sighs.

II.

By November, he's seen countless Muggleborns come and go. Some, he had recognized, including Dean Thomas, who had been accompanied by an older man. Others had been complete strangers who had heard about his little safe haven on the grapevine. Most only stayed for a few days, just long enough to rest. Others, like Victoria Madsen, a thirty year old Healer from Newcastle, had stayed to offer help.

"Do you think this makes a difference?" Anthony asks as he and Justin make their daily rounds, refreshing the wards and enchantments around the shed. "In the long run, I mean. Of everyone who stops here, how many do you reckon are still alive?"

He doesn't like to think like that. Most would call him a pessimist, but Anthony considers himself a realist.

"Mate, think about it like this," Justin says, twirling his wand between his long, slender fingers. "I would be on the run if you hadn't done this. I'd be scared, cold, hopeless. So would all these people."

Anthony shrugs. It's a good point, but he still feels like it isn't enough. Part of him feels like he needs to do more somehow.

Justin waves his wand, casting one last spell before tucking the wand in his pocket. "Everyone needs something to believe in," he says. "Harry Potter isn't exactly available, so, they're looking to you, to this place."

"I'm not a savior," Anthony sighs.

"No, you're not. You're a beacon of hope."

Anthony rolls his eyes, but a small smile plays at his thin lips. Lately, he's worried that his efforts aren't enough. There is so much more that he could do, but he doesn't know how or even where to start. But he wonders if, maybe, things will be okay after all.

…

"Another one," Victoria says, helping a little girl who can't be older than twelve into the shed.

The girl is thin and shaking. Her lips have a shocking blue tint to them. "Cold," she manages, but her voice is barely audible.

"It's okay," Victoria soothes, stroking the child's matted ebony hair. "Let's get you a nice cuppa, sweet girl. And some blankets."

Anthony feels his blood grow hot despite the December chill. The girl is just a child, and she's been forced on the run. He wonders where her family is, if they miss her, if everything is okay. His mind is constantly flooded with far too many questions and not enough answers.

Justin rests a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "It's going to be okay," he mutters. "She's safe now."

Anthony leans back in his chair, but he can't bring himself to relax. _Safe._ It's a nice word, but it feels like something out of a fairytale now. They're never completely safe. Each Muggleborn that arrives brings news with them, and it only seems to grow darker. The times Anthony has ventured out to run quick errands, he'd been so afraid the whole time, that he'd opted to sit down with Justin and Victoria and develop a plan in case anything happened to him. Justin had accused him of being dramatic, but Victoria had been completely supportive.

"Do you think this is ever going to end?" Anthony asks, watching as Victoria braids her ash blonde hair while talking to the little girl. "Is it going to go back to normal?"

"I hope so, mate," Justin sighs, stretching his long legs out and resting his dirty bare feet on the wooden crate that's used as a table. "I really hope so."

III.

Anthony swears under his breath when he sees the group of men on the property. He wants to run and hide, but it's too late. The leader spots him and offers him a wicked grin.

"Someone's been a naughty boy."

"Tell 'im, Scabior!"

Scabior's dark eyes flicker briefly to the companion who had spoken, and he scowls.

"Can I help you?" Anthony asks, trying to sound casual, like he doesn't know who they are or why they are at his home.

Scabior chuckles, exposing a flash of yellowing teeth. "You sure can," he answers. "Come with us. You're under arrest."

"Sent to round up Muggleborns, are you?" Anthony asks, folding his arms over his chest. "Sorry to disappoint, mate. Anthony Goldstein, Half-blood."

Scabior doesn't look impressed. He swaggers closer, his grin twisting into more of a snarl. "And what about the people you've been helping?" he asks. "All of 'em Half-bloods too?"

Anthony's heart races painfully in his chest. He wonders how the Snatchers could know about that. Has word of mouth spread just a little too far? Has a Muggleborn been captured and forced to talk? He swallows dryly but keeps his composure. "Haven't been helping anyone."

"Then why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

"Missed the train."

He doesn't even have time to blink. Scabior's fist slams into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Anthony doubles over, gasping and sputtering, the bags falling from his hands and spilling out onto the snowy ground.

"That's a lot of food for someone who isn't helping."

Anthony sucks in a deep breath, standing up straight again. Inhaling still hurts, but he ensures it. "There's a war going on," he says. "I like to stock up so I don't have to go out."

"Quit playing with him," a Snatcher calls. "We've got a job to do."

"Right."

Anthony draws his wand, but Scabior is faster. " _Expelliarmus!_ " He catches Anthony's wand with a smirk. "Tsk tsk. That was a mistake boy. _Crucio!"_

Anthony drops to his knees, screaming. Every nerve in his body seems to be on fire. He doesn't even register the cold snow pressing against his skin.

"Where are the Muggleborns?" Scabior asks, kicking Anthony sharply in the ribs.

Anthony cries out, the impact sending a shock through his body. "Don't… Don't know what you're talking about," he grinds out.

" _Crucio!"_

If possible, the second time is somehow worse. Anthony's arms can no longer support his weight; he collapses onto his stomach, digging his nails into the frozen earth as the curse seems to rip his body apart.

"This will all be so much easier if you just give in," Scabior says, kneeling beside him. His fingers tangle in Anthony's hair, and he jerks roughly, forcing Anthony to look at him.

Part of him is tempted to give up. The aftershocks of the curse still grip his body, and he doesn't think he can endure much more of it.

"They aren't really people, you know."

The words feel like a slap to the face. Anthony struggles against the man's grip, not caring that tufts of hair are ripped from the roots. "There was a time people thought Jews weren't really people," he spits. "I had family members die because someone decided an entire group of people could be eradicated."

"You won't tell me, then?"

"Sure. Over my dead body."

Anthony knows he's doomed the moment the words fall from his lips, but he doesn't care. If his sacrifice keeps them safe, then so be it. At least Justin and Victoria will live and keep the safe haven going strong.

Scabior tightens his grip on Anthony's hair and slams his face hard against the ground. There's a sickening _crack_ followed by the warm, sticky rush of blood as his nose break. But Anthony holds his head high.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

He doesn't even see the green light that strikes his chest.


End file.
